


come get it, tiger

by lostnfound14



Series: freshmen are people too [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Smut, Still, i hope it isn't god awful, its getting spicy up in here bois, mj and peter are horny bastards, oh god this is the first time i'm ever writing something like this, peep that explicit rating, peter and mj are soft as fuck, please enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-26 11:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnfound14/pseuds/lostnfound14
Summary: “Let’s go, loser,” she says, grinning. Peter’s smile grows. He lets her drag him down the hallway and down the stairs, smiling as he watches her bun bounce up and down with each step. Her hair tonight is a bit less messy, not that Peter minds the way she styles her hair at all, she looks beautiful even when her hair is a crow’s nest from a night of fitful sleep.When they’re at the bottom of the stairs and pushing the door open to walk into the warm spring night, Peter hazards a glance downward, at their feet that are matching pace, and she’s wearing black sandals that wind up her calves, matching her dress, and her legs are long and slender, and a bit of her thigh peeks out when she stretches out each leg to take a step, and -She has nice legs, too. Like, really nice legs. Wow.LOOK UP.-Recommended reading the first three parts of the series before this one.





	come get it, tiger

**Author's Note:**

> oh gosh oh man oh boy, guys. this is, um. my first attempt at smut. i really hope this isn't shit. i'm a bit nervous, not gonna lie. don't worry, peter and mj are still our favorite soft bois! just, you know. horny teenagers and all that. leave kudos and comment if you so desire! enjoy the fic!

Peter and MJ don’t exactly go on “dates,” unless studying together or getting coffee at Joe’s count. Peter’s happy with that, but the idea has been itching at the back of his brain ever since they had really started dating to take her out to a nice place near campus and have dinner.

Vaguely related to this, Peter hasn’t seen MJ in a dress yet, only able to rely on his imagination for such situations. So when he knocks on her dorm door in a flannel unbuttoned over a black t-shirt and black jeans, he hopes she’s wearing one, waiting giddily for her to open the door.

“Just a second,” MJ calls from the other side. Peter hears a little bit of rustling. Then, a second later, the door creaks open agonizingly slowly, and he’s entreated to the sight of her wearing -

A dress. A black skater dress with slim straps, which, coupled with the modestly low cut, show off her collarbones. Peter didn’t know it was possible for people to have “nice” collarbones, but hers definitely fit the description.

The inner voice of Peter’s brain whoops in happiness. He can’t help but break out into a grin. “Hi,” he greets, “you look amazing.” The words tumble out of his mouth because he _ has _to tell her. MJ ducks her head in embarrassment, not before he can notice a slight reddening of her cheeks and a bashful smile on her lips.

“Thanks,” MJ says to the floor. She lifts her head, still smiling at him. Peter feels like he’s living out a fantasy and they haven’t even stepped out of her doorway yet.

“You wanna get going?” He asks, offering a hand. MJ takes it, entwining their fingers. They’ve both grown confident over the few months they’ve been dating - such things as holding hands and kissing come more naturally, but the butterflies in Peter’s stomach that fluttered a few months ago still buzz around today.

“Let’s go, loser,” MJ says, grinning. Peter’s smile grows. He lets her drag him down the hallway and down the stairs, smiling as he watches her bun bounce up and down with each step. Her hair tonight is a bit less messy, not that Peter minds the way MJ styles her hair at all, because she looks beautiful even when her hair is a crow’s nest from a night of fitful sleep.

When they’re at the bottom of the stairs and pushing the door open to walk into the warm spring night, Peter hazards a glance downward, at their feet that are matching pace. MJ is wearing black sandals that wind up her calves, matching her dress. Her legs are long and slender. A bit of her thigh peeks out from her dress when she stretches out each leg to take a step, and -

She has nice legs, too. Like, really nice legs. Wow.

_ LOOK UP. _

“How was your day?” MJ asks, apparently not having noticed his previous downward gaze. 

“Oh, um, fine. I spent most of it thinking about this, though,” he admits, a slight pink coloring his cheeks as he looks at her. MJ rolls her eyes.

“You’re such a nerd,” she says, squeezing his hand. 

“I know,” he says, squeezing back, allowing an impish smile to distort his features. She seems to struggle for a reply, mouth hanging slightly open. She remains silent until Peter can’t help himself and reaches out to close her mouth for her. “Don’t want to catch any flies,” he mutters with his hand lingering on her jaw. She laughs openly. _ She thinks I’m funny, _he remembers, as if the way she guffaws at his nerdy science puns isn’t enough proof. She pretends to hate them, but every time she catches him in one of his t-shirts with a shitty physics or chemistry joke printed on it, she has to cover her mouth to suppress a laugh.

“Remember that guy who you totally embarrassed? Harry?” She suddenly asks. Peter can’t decide whether he wants to bristle or swell with pride at the mention of his name, a reminder of a moment when he’d been able to prove that she’s _ his. _

He does the latter. “Yeah?” He prompts, wondering where she’s headed with this tangent.

“I ran into him the other day, and he was all like, ‘I have a girlfriend now,’ for no reason, as if I cared in the first place, you know, because,” she gestures between them. He hasn’t seen much of rambling MJ before, but he decides that it’s cute. Very much so. “So I said, ‘cool,’ then that’s when I called you and said those things about, um, yeah. All right in front of him, and I was looking at him when I made the call, and he was all embarrassed and stuff, and it felt great.”

Peter grimaces as he remembers the phone conversation: spontaneous. 

(He was out at lunch with Ned when he got the call and had started speaking into the phone the instant he picked up but was cut off by MJ’s voice, in a tone he had never heard before, one that oozed something that made him feel hot all over. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, Pete,” she’d drawled. “We’re gonna have a _ great time, _ right?” He’d known exactly what she was insinuating but had been too shocked to say anything back. 

“Um, y-yeah,” was all he had been able to sputter out. MJ went on a bit more about just what she was going to “do to him,” and all of a sudden his jeans felt tight around his crotch, and _ God, _if she didn’t stop right now -

Thankfully, she spared him, hanging up and texting him a few minutes later to apologize. It was okay.)

“That’s cool,” he says, feeling a bit put-off by his sudden flashback. “Oh, my God, MJ, Ned was telling me about this thing…” and he falls into a rant about how Ned had shown him an article about the climate strike that was soon to happen in New York City, turning his phone to him and saying, _“Let MJ know.”_

The entire time they’re walking, their hands are still clasped together. Peter lets his words flow out of him like silk, or at least that’s how they feel, but he’s sure he’s rambling like a motherfucker. MJ doesn’t seem to mind, laughing when he stumbles over a few words or says something she finds funny and making little hums to signify interest whenever it’s piqued.

Eventually, they walk through the door of the place he had scouted out, Peter holding it open for her because tonight he’s going to make up for all the missed opportunities for being a gentleman that MJ had robbed. She scoffs but walks through the door anyway. They stand together in the line, finally letting go of the other’s hand because Peter’s is sweaty and he needs to wipe it off on his pants. MJ does the same on her skirt.

They construct their orders. When they reach the cashier, Peter and MJ pull out their wallets at the same time. Peter looks from his to hers and frowns. “MJ, I got it,” he says, hoping that’s enough to make her relent, but she narrows her eyes at him.

“Peter.” 

“MJ, please,” he sort-of begs, flashing her his puppy-eyes which, after several trials, have been proven to have a 93% effectiveness rate. Make it 96% - her eyebrows rise back to their resting position. She stuffs her wallet back into her purse, huffing a bit, but letting him pay nonetheless. Peter wants to pump his fist, but he’s being enough of a dork already.

He pulls out his card and hands it to the girl on the other side of the counter, who swipes it and hands it back to him wordlessly. Peter takes it and stuffs it in his wallet, putting his wallet back into his pocket. They take their bowls and find a seat in the packed restaurant, eventually finding a two-person table in the corner. 

The buzz of conversation floats around them, but Peter feels sheltered from it, in his own little bubble with MJ. The girl in question fiddles with some loose strands of hair that have escaped her bun. Peter looks down at his bowl to scoop some food out of it. 

When he bites all of the food off of his fork and looks up, chewing, he’s a bit surprised to see that her bun has been unraveled, her hair returning to its base state: curly, untamed, and stunning. His eyes widen, which she notices.

“I was getting a headache,” she explains. Peter nods, swallowing down his mouthful of food. 

“Okay,” he says. He doesn’t know what else to say. Awkward silence hangs in the air for a moment. MJ takes a bite of her own food, and they survey the restaurant, looking at the groups of fellow college students, laughing, smiling, and talking. 

Usually, Peter doesn’t feel so awkward with MJ, but he can’t stop thinking about her collarbone, which really pops out when she leans forward to scoop some food out of her bowl, and her legs - God, her legs - which brush against his idly under the table. Her bare legs, that are subtly toned, pushing lightly against his own. He wants to -

No. Nope. Nuh-uh. Now is _ not _the time for those thoughts. 

Instead, he pays as much attention to MJ as he can while simultaneously eating and listening to her talk about an op-ed she’s working on for the New York Times.

“Wait, the _ Times? _ Are you serious?” He interrupts when she says the name of the paper. She furrows an eyebrow, shrugging like she writes articles for one of the world’s biggest -if not _ the _biggest - newspapers in the world once a day.

“Yeah,” she replies simply, twirling her fork around in her bowl. Peter struggles to continue speaking.

“MJ, that’s _ insane! _How did this happen?”

She shrugs again. “I wrote the editor-in-chief a kinda heated email and he said he’d love to hear what I thought about institutionalized racism in the college application process,” she explains like she’s describing lunch with her mother or something else equally mundane. This is MJ, after all. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he’s far too proud of her not to show it.

“Wow,” he breathes. MJ bites her lip to hide a proud grin. He kind of wishes she would let it show in its full glory because her teeth would glint in the warm lighting of the restaurant and Peter would probably imagine a “ding!” sound to go along with it, like in the cartoons he would watch as a kid on Saturday mornings. “MJ, I’m so proud of you,” he says, because he knows by now that she’s not one to self-praise, even if she’s actually so great and Peter sort of worships the ground she walks on.

Love might do that to you.

God, _ love? _ Peter dances around the word. He knows he loves Aunt May, and he loved/loves Ben, but he’s never really loved someone outside of his own family besides Ned, and that doesn’t count, because he loves him like a brother. With MJ, it would be a totally different kind.

That’s the love that someone feels with the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. It’s been only a few months with her, so Peter doesn’t want to rush into anything, but denial isn’t easy.

He decides to table this inner discussion for later. “Thanks,” MJ says, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Peter’s heart aches for her. In more ways than one. From the little she’s told him about her family, he knows that her parents… aren’t the best. They were the kind of parents that hovered, only really concerned with her grades over her mental well-being. A-pluses were As. B-pluses were Ds. Cs were Fs. They didn’t really praise her for her best accomplishments, either. Like when she was chosen as captain of the debate team, she’d told them with one of the biggest smiles she’d ever worn and all they said was, “Oh, good, that’ll look good on your college apps.” Not acknowledging or congratulating her. At all. Ever.

Peter feels it’s his responsibility to build her self-confidence up, even if he’d never tell her because if he did, he knows she would get angry.

“That’s enough about me, though,” she says, waving her hand through the air to dismiss the topic, literally and figuratively. “Did you get that internship?” 

Peter immediately perks up. He can’t help it. He’d applied for a paid internship at Stark Industries, really a low-level research job, but it meant good things for his resume and even better things for his curious, hardworking side. Applied Physics was nowhere near enough to satiate his desire to put his knowledge into practice, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity, so he had put in his application with a few references, waiting rather impatiently for a notification to tell him whether he had gotten it or not.

He had.

“Yeah,” he confirms, eyes gleaming with happiness. MJ picks up on it, his own rays of happiness reflecting on her own face, her lips curling upward to form a supportive smile.

“That’s amazing, Pete,” she says, reaching out to take his hand in hers. He likes it when she calls him Pete. It’s intimate. The hairs on his arm stand up at the contact. “Are you excited?”

Peter almost laughs. “You have no idea, MJ,” he mutters. She laughs a bit herself. Peter joins in, but it’s short and sweet. She smiles and laughs so much, more than she ever did before they were dating. He likes to think he’s the reason for it.

“I don’t,” she agrees, drawing a circle on the back of his hand. She seems to have no idea what she’s doing to him right now. She bites her lip a bit too seductively to be natural. Peter has to wonder if she _does _know and she’s just fucking with him. He doesn’t know which possible scenario is better.

MJ's so fucking beautiful. Peter really tries to ignore these thoughts when she’s around, but whenever her hands sneak under his shirt during a more, well, _ passionate _kiss he can feel the familiar tightening of his pants, and Christ, when she wears skinny jeans and he watches her order her coffee at Joe’s from behind, his eyes, without fail, will trail downward.

His jeans start to feel a bit small. No, not here. Not now. Not a good time. At all. So he adjusts in his seat. As MJ watches him shift, she almost looks… smug? Fuck. She _ definitely _knows. 

Peter laughs nervously with no preamble whatsoever. MJ quirks an eyebrow. This is not fair. So he starts to slowly hook his leg around hers under the table. She doesn’t resist, eventually letting him trap her leg between both of his own. 

Everything about this moment feels odd. Like, Twilight Zone. But he likes it, and he thinks MJ does, too, if the way she’s batting her eyelashes at him is any indication.

Wait. MJ _ never _bats her eyelashes. He distinctly remembers her describing the action as “way too feminine,” one day as they were sitting flush against each other on their designated couch in the library. It was almost never occupied, actually, slightly convincing Peter that they had a silent monopoly on it.

“Um, how’s your food?” he asks, even though neither of them has taken a bite from their respective bowls in several minutes.

“Good,” MJ says, abruptly. He brushes her leg that’s currently trapped between his with his pant leg. She shivers, her mouth falling open slightly. The sight gives him a bit of confidence. 

“You wanna get out of here?” They ask at the exact same time. When they finish speaking, they both grin at each other. Then they laugh. Hard. It’s reminiscent of their accidental meeting in Joe’s, the fifth time they’d seen each other, ever, the day he’d asked her out on a not-date. He remembers the way she’d laughed at his awkward phrasing, and they’re laughing just as hard, if not harder, than how they had laughed then.

“Yeah,” MJ says, already getting up. Peter follows suit, smiling as they turn away from the table and walk out of the restaurant. The warm air feels a bit sticky on his skin. Shit, had he been sweating while she was doing… that stuff?

“So, um…” Peter tires, wondering how to phrase his next statement without being completely overt.

“Yeah?” MJ asks, sweetly innocent, lacing her fingers through his. Peter sighs and allows her to hold his hand because no matter how much she had just made a fool of him back in the restaurant, he still likes her.

“What was that? Back at the restaurant?” He glances at her.

MJ pretends to act confused. “What was what?” She asks. She turns to him, grinning deviously, definitely giving herself away, but Peter is a bit too flustered at the realization to pursue this.

“You know…” he insists, still not able to finish his sentence.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, Peter,” she says, leaning into him and shoving him to the side lightly. He doesn’t stumble, thankfully. “‘Cause I’m clueless.”

Peter wants to yell. The sexual tension - _ wow, how scandalous, Peter, have you ever even said that word out loud before? - _ had hit a peak in there and now he was way too horny to not be doing anything about it, and MJ was teasing him so badly, and -

_ Slow down before you give yourself a heart attack, _ he reminds himself. He can’t be getting too deep into the rabbit hole while they’re still out on a date and he should be focusing on the beautiful girl in front of him instead of what she looks like with that damn dress pooled around her ankles -

Holy fucking shit, he’s a creep. That thought is what finally helps Peter sober up. When he turns back to MJ, he notices that she’s been watching him the whole time he was stuck in his own head. Something in her gaze is _ animal. _

He laughs. “You’re crazy, you know that?” He can’t help but say. Confusion flashes on MJ's face. Momentarily, he worries that he’s hurt her feelings, but then she’s grinning again.

“I still have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Her curls are bouncing with every step she takes. One of the straps of her dress is starting to slip off of her shoulder. He almost reaches out to adjust it, but the way her skin shines in the light of the streetlamps is mesmerizing.

“Uh-huh,” he hums, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arm around her waist like it’s a reflex, even though he’s never actually done it before. The fabric of her dress feels smooth in his hands. He grips it lightly, bunching a little bit of it up in his fist. He hears her breath catch, and he grins to himself.

He’s being way too bold right now. What if somehow, tonight it escalates to… that, and he makes an absolute fool of himself because he’s still a virgin? He’s never done it before. He and Felicia almost got there in high school, but she ended up pushing him too hard and he had to go home. He knew it made him look like an idiot to her, and she’d dumped him soon after, but he cared more about his own comfort than a beautiful girl who just wanted to jump his bones.

And he still does. But MJ has proven to him that she wants him for _ him, _ not what he looks like without a shirt on. So why not embrace this new experience? He wants it too. There’s no denying it.

MJ leans into him slightly, accepting his rather daring advance, and she exhales. He feels her arm rising to her shoulder to adjust the strap of her dress. “You’re warm,” she whispers, barely loud enough to hear over the din of chatter on the sidewalk and the groaning of car motors as they zoom down the street.

“It’s already pretty warm,” Peter points out, then wishes he hadn’t. She was flirting with him. Even though they’ve been together for a little while, they still flirt. Peter still gets that small buzzing sensation in the back of his neck whenever he realizes she’s insinuating something when he passes her favorite highlighter - blue - and her hand lingers as their fingers brush over each other.

MJ decides to humor him and simply bury herself deeper into his body, head tilting to lean slightly against his own. She’s a bit taller, so it’s slightly awkward, but she doesn’t seem to mind, so neither does he.

His index finger of the hand he’s using to grip her dress starts to draw small circles on her hip. Her hips, he’s noticed over the course of the night, are wide in comparison to her waist. She’s skinny, but she’s got a bit of an hourglass figure going on. Peter wants to smack himself for not noticing earlier.

Oh, well. He was too busy noticing the way her curls bounced with every turn of her head when she let her hair down and how her eyes glowed in the sun like amber to focus much on her lower half.

Subconsciously, he makes the right turn to walk back into campus, pulling her along with him. It feels new to be in control like this because MJ is always keeping him on his toes and the turning of the tables is odd but exciting. She makes no protest, allowing his hand to remain on her hip as they walk. 

“You’ve been weirdly quiet,” MJ observes, breaking Peter out of his self-induced autopilot. “Usually you’re talking my ear off when you take me out.” 

Peter doesn’t know whether to be hurt by her comment or touched by her observation. He goes for the latter, biting back a retort he’s sure would not have bode well for their conversation. “Um, can we talk about that when we get to your dorm?” 

_ You’re beautiful and you’ve been teasing me the entire night and as a result, I’m a horny bastard who doesn’t know what to do about it because I’m scared I’ll embarrass myself. _

That’s what he wants to tell her. Not what he’s _ going _to tell her, because it’ll probably come out as a jumbled mess that will end with him red as a fucking beet. But it’s what he wants to say. She’s become surprisingly good at deciphering his normally unintelligible rambling over the course of the several months that they’ve been dating, but even this might be a challenge for her.

“Okay, Tiger,” MJ says. Peter’s eyebrows crinkle in confusion. _ Tiger? _That’s a new one. Instantly, though, he decides he likes it. He imagines her crying it out as he -

Okay. Time to pick up the pace, because these thoughts are going to be the death of him if he doesn’t act on them as soon as possible. 

Wordlessly, they climb the stairs, Peter actually sort of starting to pull her along because she’s taking her sweet-ass time, probably knowing his intentions. He slows at the thought - _ am I being selfish? - _ but then she places her hand on the small of his back and starts to pull him along, too.

Oh.

They’re practically jogging to her dorm door by the time they’ve reached her floor. MJ pulls her keys out of her purse, fumbling with them as she tries to find the one that opens it. 

“Ha!” she barks quietly as she grips the correct key and inserts it into the lock. She shoves the door open. Peter laughs as he follows her inside. 

Peter closes it behind him, turning back to it, but he’s shoved backward until he’s flush against it. Thankfully, he doesn’t bang his head, simply looking with wide eyes at MJ, who has a hungry look in her eyes. He gulps.

“MJ,” he breathes. “Is this-”

She quiets him with her lips on his own. His mouth is still slightly open from his attempt to speak, so he quickly loses his breath and places a hand on her collarbone to push her away an inch. “Wait,” he begs, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks.

“What’s wrong, Pete?” She asks, a little breathless herself.

“Are you trying to…” he falters. Why can’t he just fucking say it? It’s all he’s been able to think about tonight and his dumb ass can’t say the words.

Thankfully, she knows exactly what he’s talking about. Finally. “Have sex with you? Because, uh,” she licks her lips. “Yes.”

Peter exhales against her, relieved that he’s not alone in his desires.”Okay,” he says, because he can’t manage much else. “Just know that, uh…”

“Are you a virgin?” She asks, but her tone is not snide or hurtful. It’s curious. She has no intention of insulting him if he says yes. So he nods. “Okay,” she says. “We can, uh, take it slow.” Peter smiles. She’s so understanding. Better than any of the other girls he’s been with. Or, that’s not fair. Gwen was pretty understanding herself, but then she moved away, and… yeah. 

_ Get your mind off of Gwen and on MJ. _

MJ takes one of Peter's hands, placing it on her hip, where it had been a few minutes ago. She takes his other one and places it in the same spot on the opposite side. Peter gets the idea, crashing her lips to hers. She leans back, allowing him to take control, but slowly pulls him backward, towards her bed, he guesses. 

Her hands grip his flannel, tugging it down his arms. By the time he feels her brush up against her elevated mattress, it’s pooled around his forearms. He quickly detaches his hands from her hips to shrug it off and toss it to the corner of the room. MJ chuckles against his lips. When his hands are back on her they go to her thighs, squeezing gently.

MJ moans, a low, quiet, guttural sound, and wow, Peter’s brain is going a mile a minute, working to retain the sound in his mind for the foreseeable future because it’s filled with desire. For him.

Peter hoists her up. She squeaks in surprise, wrapping her legs around his back as she hovers in the air slightly above him. With their lips separated, they both breathe hard with the need for air. MJ huffs out, “You’re strong.”

He feels a small swelling of pride in his stomach. The gym had served him well. Yeah, he was usually humble, but if there was one thing he liked about his physical appearance, it was his muscles. He’d gotten more than a few admiring stares from women at the beach (of a wide range of ages) and some of the guys at the gym had asked him what his ab workout was. So yeah.

Peter doesn’t respond to MJ's statement, simply leaning upwards, attempting to kiss her, and she leans down to meet him halfway. His right hand starts to trail up her thigh, hooking slightly under the bottom of her dress, but he holds himself back, skirting over it and continuing to trail up her side, using his fingernails to give her goosebumps. She shudders against him. Peter grins against her mouth. He flicks his tongue against her lips. They taste like strawberries. 

Her hands hook around the hem of his t-shirt. The feeling of her hands against his stomach is electrifying. Again, they separate. Peter looks down to focus on tugging his shirt off, feeling her eyes on him as he does so. 

He gives the shirt the same treatment as his flannel. When he looks back up at MJ, he notices her eyes roaming his chest hungrily.

“Wow,” she breathes. “You have… abs.” Peter realizes she’s never actually seen him with his shirt off. He is pretty nervous about changing clothes in front of her, so it makes sense. 

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “Um, can we… get this dress off?” Her eyes widen, but then they narrow as she grins deviously at him.

“I think you’re gonna have to help me with that,” she whispers seductively. Peter’s breath catches in his throat. Holy shit. His hands fall back on her thighs, though, and they start to trail upward again, except this time agonizingly slow.

“I don’t have all night,” she teases. Peter chuckles, but he takes the hint and grips the fabric again. He slowly starts to pull it upwards, drinking in the sight of every new inch of her thighs that is revealed to him as he tugs. Her legs… God. They look amazing. He imagines his face trapped between them as he licks hungrily at her and she cries out his name.

He’s allowed to have these thoughts now. He feels as if a huge weight has been lifted off his chest at the realization, and he begins to pull faster. She shifts, leaning against him slightly to allow him to pull the dress over her ass. He feels the swells of her breasts against his chest. One of his hands encircles her waist, continuing to tug the dress upwards, while the other moves up to her breast and he squeezes it, feeling more than hearing the moan that escapes her lips as they’re pressed up against his ear. Fuck.

Peter finally gets the dress up over MJ's head. She raises her arms to help him pull it all the way off. It flies off to the side. 

Peter takes a moment to observe her. Her shoulders are rising and falling with heavy breaths, and her curls are pointing in various directions. She’s wearing a black bra and panties. 

His hands fall to her waist. MJ grins when she notices his expression of wonder. He knows he looks like a goner. The truth is, he is. As his fingers ghost over the soft lace of her panties, he can feel sweat starting to form on his brow. He looks up at MJ, hoping she will understand that he’s asking for consent.

Her grin softens into a smile, and she nods. Eagerly, he hooks his thumbs over the band of her panties and begins to tug them down. He leans in to kiss her and she responds in kind, even nibbling on his lower lip a bit, at which he groans in pleasure.

They’ve said no words for a good minute. Peter is fighting the urge to say something dorky like “wow, you’re so beautiful” or “oh my gosh” or “wow.” He knows it’s better to keep his mouth shut, so he makes the effort. 

He pulls the lace down her thighs and at some point, she takes control, shifting her legs and just kicking them off. Peter’s hand returns to between her legs, and it hovers on the skin a few inches below her navel because he has no idea where to put it. Wow, his sexual inexpertise is really showing off right now.

“Lower,” MJ breathes. He obliges, his fingers falling to a point where he feels a hardened nub. “Right there,” she whispers into his ear. Peter kisses her neck as he begins to rub the spot she’s directed him to. She lets out a breathy moan, and it excites him, so he picks up speed. 

He sucks on the spot where he can feel her pulse. Her fingernails suddenly dig into his back. It should hurt, but for some reason, it feels so _ good _when MJ’s leaving scars that will probably be noticed in the morning.

Her moans begin to speed up in correspondence with his ministrations. Peter feels as if he’s listening to a classical masterpiece, with the way her voice carries into his ear and sings a sweet melody. 

“You feel so good,” Peter hears himself say. Whoa. Where did _ that _come from?

MJ lets out a little whimper at his words. He dares to bring his hand lower, searching for the opening he knows is there. Finally, his hand sneaks between her lips and, unsure of what to do, he shoves a finger deep within her, but she doesn’t seem to like it. Instead, she cries out in what sounds like pain. Peter instantly stops.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks breathlessly. His hand is starting to cramp slightly.

MJ simply replies, “Not like that.” Peter nods against her, because he’ll do anything the way she tells him to. He trusts her experience.

“Sorry,” he mumbles shyly.

She chuckles. “It’s okay.”

Then they’re right back at it. Before Peter knows it, she’s unbuckling his belt and starting to tug at his waistband. He doesn’t know what to do about it, but then he hears MJ whimper, “You’re wearing too much,” and he understands. He lets go of her briefly to pull down his pants and hops out of them as she watches, laughing as he hops around the room in a struggle to free himself from the restrictive denim.

“Shut up,” Peter says, cheeks red. Thank God he’s not facing her. 

“You’re adorable,” MJ replies, almost too quiet for him to hear, but he does. With newfound confidence, he finally steps out of his jeans and walks back to her in only his boxers, grinning widely.

“Can you say that again? I don’t think I heard you right the first time.” He grins. She rolls her eyes, wondering how to retort when suddenly she grips him through his boxers and all other possible words of snark are caught in his throat.

“You heard me just fine, dork,” MJ says, looking at him through her lashes and speaking in a voice that sends all of his blood downward. She seems to feel him harden under her palm and grins. “Someone’s excited.”

“Your fault,” he mumbles. She scoffs a laugh. Then, her hands reach somewhere behind her back, and he hears a quiet snapping noise. Her bra loosens around her chest. She shrugs it off casually, but Peter is unable to tear his eyes away from her breasts. 

They aren’t the balloons he’s seen in the little porn he’s watched, but then again, he’s always thought porn was overrated and an unrealistic representation of sex that made virgins like him expect too much out of their first sexual encounter. 

In his eyes, her breasts are beautiful, the perfect size, all he needs because they’re not what matters to him. What _ does _matter is the fact that she’s comfortable with advancing their relationship in this regard. Peter had no idea he wanted this until now. 

He reaches up to take one in his hand, and she lets him. He rubs her nipple with his thumb. He feels it harden under his hand and he looks up at her face to see her eyes fluttering in pleasure. 

Before he knows it he’s pushing her gently downward until her back meets the mattress and he climbs up onto it with her so that he’s hovering above her. 

She’s palming his length through his boxers as he kisses her neck hungrily, trailing his tongue down her jugular, and he loves how fast she’s breathing because _ he’s _doing that.

“Off,” she says cryptically. Peter pauses above her, his hand loosening its grip on her breast.

“What?”

“Your boxers,” she says. “Take them off.” 

That means… Honestly, Peter should have known where this was going, but then he remembers that there is such a thing as contraceptives and there has been no talk of those yet.

“Do you have condoms?” Peter asks. He almost laughs when her eyes widen, because it seems that she’s only just remembered them too. 

“Yeah,” she says, finally finding words. “In my purse.” 

He rises to get off of her and find it, but there are clothes strewn all over the floor and Peter has no idea where to look. “MJ?”

“Yeah?” She asks from the bed. Her legs are bent at the knee, her hair is pooled around her head in a beautiful mess of curls, her skin is glowing in the low, warm light of the dorm. Every curve of her body is accentuated by the shadow that is cast behind her. Peter almost says _ fuck the condoms _ and climbs back into bed with her to do some unholy things, but his rational side gets the better of him and snaps him out of his trance.

“Where’s your bag?” 

MJ leans over the edge of the bed. Peter momentarily worries that she’s going to fall, but she holds herself in that position long enough for him to let the fear pass. She then points to a spot about a foot from the bed. Peter is there instantly, picking up the small purse and opening it in search of the condoms. He finds a few, actually, and he holds them out in front of himself, then tears one off.

A realization enters his mind at that moment which gives him pause, then makes him smile. “You were… anticipating this?” He looks down at MJ. Her cheeks are faintly flushed.

“Maybe.” She tucks a curl behind her ear and adds, “Now, let’s go. I’m way too horny to be kept waiting.” 

Peter can feel the tips of his ears warm at her statement, but he follows her command, tearing off his boxers and ripping open the condom wrapper to reveal the well-lubricated piece of rubber. 

Quickly, he slips it over his already-hard cock and crawls back to his original position over MJ. He has a general idea of where he should put it from when he had been fingering her, but he’s still cautious. Slowly, as he watches, he pushes against her opening. He glances up at her to see her nod. 

He takes the plunge, not going _ all _the way in but at least a few inches. MJ gasps. Peter groans, enveloped in his own bliss.

“Oh, my God,” he breathes. She chuckles. Slowly, he begins to push deeper inside of her. He lowers himself onto her as she arches her back in pleasure, crying out his name.

_ “Peter.” _

Holy fuck. Can she say it again?

_ “Peter,” _she whimpers as he pulls back and then pushes in again. Crap. Did he say that out loud?

He kisses her neck, choosing not to worry about himself and instead focusing on MJ. Her breaths are deep and labored. He begins to find a rhythm within her, slow but sure. 

“Fuck, Michelle,” he groans. Her walls grip his cock tightly as he slowly thrusts. They seem to close even tighter as he breathes those words. 

“God, Peter, I feel so good.” Peter feels woozy. Her pleas are doing him wrong, making him feel like he’s floating on a cloud as he fucks her, gripping her waist, her breasts, her thighs. 

He rises slowly, taking in every inch of her body. She watches him as they separate like she misses their closeness, but Peter wants to be able to see all of her. Her breasts slightly bounce with each thrust and the side of her head hits the pillow as she sucks her teeth to keep from crying out. 

Peter can hear the slight straining of the bed springs, knowing that her neighbors can probably hear, but he can’t find it within himself to care. He’s having sex with _ MJ, _ for God’s sake. Her arms are bent so that her hands can grip the headboard for balance, and _ huh, _ he must have picked up the pace.

His hand trails from her collarbone, over her breast, down her stomach, around her thigh, until it lands on her ass. He squeezes. He faintly hears her coo in pleasure. His other hand moves up to her breast and caresses it gently. One of her own hands moves to cover his and hold it there, and Peter’s mouth falls open slightly. 

“God, MJ,” he says, breathlessly, because he’s starting to really fuck her. She’s whimpering even louder. He can hear her saying under her breath, “fuck me, fuck me, _ fuck me."_ He doesn’t want this to end just yet, but his dick is saying otherwise. 

“Peter,” she says. He finds himself coming back down to her, planting his lips on hers. She responds enthusiastically, pressing against his tongue with her own. His hands move to the base of her neck and her curls, tangling themselves within them, his elbows holding her arms down to the bed effectively. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, voice shaky from the bliss he’s experiencing. MJ smiles against his lips, then bites down gently on his lower lip.

He’s close. 

“Harder, baby,” she whimpers. She’s never called him that before, and it gives him a burst of energy that makes him go even harder against her and deeper into her. He can feel the sweat glistening on his face. Pressure starts to build slowly in his cock, but he keeps the pace because he strives for release. Everything is starting to hit him at once: her whispering, the pressure of her breasts against his chest, the tightness of her walls around his cock, _ everything. _

“MJ, I’m almost...” 

He can see her nod, urging him to go even faster, so he obliges. He squeezes her breasts with both hands, alternating between kissing her jaw frantically and sucking on her neck.

(Hickeys are new to him. He’d always thought that leaving marks on people’s neck like a vampire was weird until he was doing it himself. It’s like… Marking your territory, almost. While Peter hates talking about MJ in a possessive way, this is a medium far stronger than words: Like a bear scratching out a warning on tree bark.)

(Okay, enough with the weird analogies, Parker.)

“God, Peter,” MJ cries out. “Please.” 

Peter's almost there. He thrusts into her as fast as he can. The few seconds before his orgasm are when he leans down to kiss her square on the lips so that he lives and breathes her when he finishes. She kisses back fiercely. That’s when he tips over the edge, emptying himself into the condom and almost collapsing in exhaustion. 

“I’m so close,” he hears her beg. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

Peter tries his damnedest to keep his cock as hard as possible so that she, too, can reach orgasm. He feels her legs wrap tightly around his waist, and so he continues thrusting and kissing her and she keeps moaning and crying out his name. 

_ “Fuck_, Peter,” MJ finally says, “I’m…”

Then she quakes, moaning one last time as her legs tighten around his waist and her walls squeeze around his quickly softening cock. Her breathing is shallow and quick, and she seems to be riding out her orgasm. Her nails scrape into his back, but like the last time, it doesn’t hurt.

Peter unsheathes himself from within her and flops down next to her on the bed, breathing heavily. He had almost gone soft within her and that definitely would not have been good. 

Peter decides not to preoccupy himself with this, instead focusing on the quickly relaxing breathing rate of MJ. His head turns to look at her. he notices that she, too, is glistening with sweat, looking up at the ceiling as she returns to normal.

Then MJ turns to him quickly. Before he can act she places a hand on the side of his neck and kisses him fiercely. Peter is almost too shocked to respond in kind, but she holds her lips to his long enough for him to grip her waist and kiss back. It almost deepens, but then they both seem to remember that they’re exhausted from the sex they literally _ just _had, and pull away from each other, smiling breathlessly. 

“You’re incredible,” he whispers. MJ's already kind of red from… you know, but he swears that she goes even redder at his admission.

She looks down at his hand that she’s just intertwined in her own and mumbles, “You’re not so bad yourself.” Peter laughs. Perfectly on-brand for MJ.

Then he remembers the condom is still on his dick. He rises a bit too quickly, feeling the blood rush from his dick to his brain. Stars flash in his eyes and he sits, dazed. MJ looks up at him with concern and asks, “What’s up?”

Peter snaps out of it and glances down at her with a reassuring smile, saying, “Oh, just… the condom.”

MJ nods and shoos him off of the bed so that he can dispose of it. He ambles over to the trashcan in front of her bed and rolls the condom off, dropping it in. It feels odd to be walking around completely naked - a bit domestic, especially for college - but he really doesn’t mind, because MJ’s there watching him, waiting for him to join her in bed once more.

He turns back and walks to the bed. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes light up when he snuggles into her and wraps an arm around her waist. He settles his head in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her shampoo - strawberry.

Suddenly, she speaks. He feels the vibrations of her vocal cords against his forehead. “You know, you were unfairly good for a virgin.”

Peter feels himself heat up. “Uh…” That’s quite the compliment, delivered in perfect MJ fashion, unexpected and not exactly the way you would have expected it to be phrased. “Thanks?” 

“That means you made me feel good,” MJ explains like he already doesn’t know from the way she moaned his name and told him the exact same thing as he entered her.

“I gathered that much,” Peter says sleepily. He’s tired. It’s a bit laughable how quickly he exhausted himself, but what can he say, sex is a workout. 

“Ha,” MJ says drily as possible, but he can hear the shyness in her voice. “Shut up.” Peter simply smiles against her shoulder and nuzzles against her, feeling the pull of sleep calling to him. So he lets it overtake him, closing his eyes and drifting off.

When he wakes up, the first thing he feels is the slow rise and fall of MJ’s chest as she breathes. He opens his eyes and looks down MJ’s body. Her breasts are just peeking out from under the comforter. He can feel his arm resting just below them. Painstakingly, he lifts his arm from her stomach without trying to make her stir, and sneaks his head out from between her neck and shoulder. He has classes today.

Then his memory flashes back to MJ’s blissed-out face as he gripped her waist and fucked her. The word sounds so crude, so unlike something Peter would ever say, but something changed in him last night. Yeah, he lost his virginity, to _ MJ, _ that’s _ insane. _ But also, it’s something big for their relationship. Already, he feels like they’ve ascended, he’s ascended, to something new. Not some weird nirvana bullshit, but he feels different. More confident.

Peter lifts his head, pecks MJ on the cheek. When he lifts himself over her to land on the ground, he feels her stir, the mattress creaking beneath her movement.

Peter shimmies off the bed, looking for his boxers. He feels slightly disgusting changing into last night’s clothes, but there are no other options. Making a small “a-ha” noise, Peter picks up his boxers from the floor and starts to tug them on.

“You have a nice butt,” he hears. He freezes. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice before.”

MJ’s awake. Peter finishes pulling on his boxers and turns to face her, adjusting his waistband.

“Good morning to you, too,” Peter says, failing to hold back his blush. MJ giggles. God, he almost forgot how beautiful it sounds. She’s resting her head on her fist, elbow bent perpendicular to the mattress to prop it up. Her curls are messy as all hell and Peter cannot think anything besides the fact that she is so fucking beautiful.

He takes a step towards MJ and pushes her gently down to the bed so that the angle of their kiss isn’t so awkward. She kisses back lazily, humming against his lips, pushing against his collarbone to indicate for him to stop. He pulls back, face hovering inches above hers. She whispers, “You should get back to your dorm before Ned gets worried.”

Peter smiles. “I almost don’t want to leave,” he admits. MJ smiles too because she probably already knew this.

“I don’t want you to leave either, nerd, but I am seriously concerned for Ned’s state of mental well-being.” She lifts her head to peck him on the lips gently, then pushes him back up again. “Go.” 

Peter nods and resumes the search for the rest of his clothes. Slowly, he finds his pants, t-shirt, and sneakers. Peter pulls his belt through the loops, patting himself down to find his wallet, phone, and keys. Everything is there.

He takes a step towards the door, then turns abruptly on his heels to find MJ one last time. She’s still watching him, with a tender look in her eye, head still resting on her splayed hand, comforter draped over her chest. She’s beautiful.

Peter can’t help himself. He strides quickly back to MJ. She must have anticipated this, because she lifts herself up on both hands to meet him before he can even lean down to kiss her. She presses her lips against his and Peter tangles his hands in her curls to hold her close while he kisses her lovingly. He can feel her bare shoulders against his forearms. It’s a gentle reminder of what they did last night, making him lean deeper into the kiss.

“Jeez, Pete,” she says, her lips brushing against his as she speaks. “You’re especially clingy this morning.” Reflexively, Peter pulls away, looking down at the ground, embarrassed. She doesn’t like clingy, he remembers.

“Sorry.”

He looks back up at MJ to see a sympathetic look on her face. She reaches up to cup his jaw in her hand. Then, she pulls him back down for one last, strong, yet short, kiss. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” she says passionately. Peter beams. He then reluctantly distances himself from her and walks to the door. Quietly, Peter pulls it open, and, sparing one last glance at MJ to see her smiling encouragingly, he closes it behind him. 

He almost skips like a preschooler down the hallway in happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> hoo boy, so, how was that? was it bad? good? um. let me know! i hope you enjoyed this, though. it was a bit of a new experience for me, what with the smut and all. i admit i was considering scrapping this fic entirely, but by then i think i was about 4k words in and i was like, fuck it, i'm already in this deep, why not finish? so i did., and ended up with this. it gets way softer by the end. leave kudos and comment if you made it to the end ;) thanks so much for reading as always! until the next! (actually, i was wondering about suggestions yall had for future fics, i'm not gonna lie i'm running out of ideas)


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